


You're Not The Person That I Knew Back Then

by Elise_Davidson



Series: 40 Snapshots [8]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: 22. Lovers, 40 Snapshots, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7711315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Davidson/pseuds/Elise_Davidson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Rush can’t deny a month later is the fact that he remembers what the skin of Young’s hip tasted like against his tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not The Person That I Knew Back Then

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to LegacySoulReaver for the read-through (and some quite invaluable knowledge about SG:U). Remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title taken from A Day to Remember's song "It's complicated".
> 
> Edited 8/8/16: Cleared up some typos and fixed some sentences. I didn't realize just how many mistakes I was letting through on the latest installments. Also changed the rating for the making out and the language.

22\. Lovers

It didn’t happen once they were out of stasis, nor when they had worked together for several months after. It wasn’t all at once and it wasn’t slow. It wasn’t even preceded by subtle closeness that brought them closer and closer together, like a pulsar eventually dying within the gravitational pull of a black hole.

When it did happen, Rush was more shocked than Young, and shoved the military man off in anger that Young thought Rush could manipulated that easily.

Except Young had grabbed Rush’s face, one hand stroking his cheek and the other scrabbling to tangle in the long hair, mouth open and needy, tongue swiping inelegantly against his lips.

“You’re fucking crazy, did you know that,” Rush demanded, backing further into the wall.

Young stared at him for a long moment before shoving Rush back against the wall and stalking off.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The shadows of pretense were gone when Rush entered Young’s quarters. Young stared at him blearily, though the exhaustion was from lack of sleep more than anything else. Young’s pitch-colored eyes were lined in red streaks and dark bags, his entire frame slumped and defeated, and Rush suddenly realized there were flecks of gold within Young’s eyes.

“Why did you do that?” Rush asked bluntly, sidling himself beside of Young where he sat on the bed.

Young snorted. “Does it matter?”

Rush didn’t respond, not right away. It frequently paid off to let Young blow off steam.

The problem was that Young said nothing else, his body abruptly tense and unsure. With their thighs and shoulders pressed together, Rush wasn’t sure that he was simply waiting for Young to speak again.

Instead, Young laid his head on Rush’s shoulder. “I killed that boy.” A broken sounding sigh rattled from Young’s chest.

Rush struggled to not point out that Young did what he had to. He opted for the military point of view instead. “You’d rather have had the lad bleed to death, wanting to scream for death and sobbing in pain before it finally took him?” he asked 

Young trembled beside of him in a way that Rush knew the colonel had attempted to suppress the grief without succeeding.

“Riley’s dead, Colonel,” Rush said coolly. “I’m entirely certain you made his death easier than it could have been.”

“And Dr. Perry?” Young asked in a jaded tone that made ice crawl up Rush’s spine.

Rush’s arm came round to curl against Young’s shoulders. “She’s in a prison of her own making,” he said stiffly.

The minutes dragged out until it was simply the two of them, huddled against each other in a sort of grief that neither would be able to explain to any doctor on Earth. Neither moved away either, not even when Young’s lips were at Rush’s throat.

“I think I hate you sometimes,” Young breathed, teeth scraping against skin and hand falling close enough to Rush’s dick that Rush wanted to get the hell away. His tongue swiped in a wicked, agile way that had Rush feeling for Young’s bare skin beneath the black BDU’s. “I don’t want to hate you, not anymore…I don’t want you to be my enemy.”

“Then stop being mine,” Rush responds, and silently appreciates the way Young had stretched himself out so that Rush’s narrow, blunt fingers can stroke against flesh.

They fall asleep much like that, facing each other, with lips and fingers on skin and hips, in a way that both of them will deny in the morning and even days afterward.

What Rush can’t deny a month later is the fact that he remembers what the skin of Young’s hip tasted like against his tongue.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


End file.
